


Turning the tides

by Sometimesalwayssarcastic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Remus tries to prove Sirius is innocent, Sirius confronts Remus when he thinks hes the spy, Unrequited Love, and realizes he's done goofed, hes gonna hunt down a rat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-22 23:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sometimesalwayssarcastic/pseuds/Sometimesalwayssarcastic
Summary: The war with Voldemort has reached catastrophic levels and tensions are running high. Lily and James have gone into hiding in hopes of saving their son, Sirius is terrified of losing his best friends, Peter is made the secret keeper and Remus is believed to be the spy.On Halloween evening, 1981, Sirius visits Remus and demands answers. Why would he betray his friends after everything they had done? Why, now, would he side with the enemy?Revelations clear the air but, when disaster inevitably strikes, Remus knows the truth and fights to rectify the situation. Lily and James might be gone, but Remus would be damned before he lost Sirius and Harry too.In which a long over-due conversation between two friends makes all the difference.





	1. Chapter 1

It was still early morning, the light of the young sun drifting softly through the partially opened blinds of the old kitchen the only source of light as Remus moved softly around. He never particularly enjoyed being up this early - he was certainly not a morning person - and he avoided excess light at all costs. Maybe he needed to be up, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

A soft mutter escaped him absently as he accidentally burned his finger on the kettle, his lips quirking into a slight scowl as he glared in irritation at the offending object. The finger raised to rest in his mouth for a moment before he returned to his task of preparing tea, this time taking much more caution with the movements.

He was due to head north today for the Order, some task he was assigned by Dumbledore. He dreaded the journey, as he knew it was a moot point continuing the tasks he had been engaging in, but the headmaster had been quite insistent that he go anyway. None of these ‘special missions’ had been fruitful in months and he despised the cold, but Dumbledore’s word was absolute.

His hands gripped his chosen mug firmly at the reminder of the frigid temperatures he would have to face in only a few hours’ time, a small part of himself hoping that he could somehow steal the heat from the tea to keep himself warm.

The almost inaudible pecking at his window caused the werewolf to jump, his attention so firmly set on both preparing his drink and his thoughts that he had almost forgotten the outside world.

Both the kettle and his mug were set aside as the young man turned to regard the source of the noise – a medium sized, black owl sat was perched on his windowsill, it’s dark brown eyes staring almost unnervingly at him. It was Sirius’ owl, no doubt about it.

Remus found himself frowning slightly at the bird, but he moved to open the window to let in it regardless. It had been months since his friend had sent him anything through owl mail, as their last few interactions had not gone exactly smoothly, and he was secretly relieved to see that it wasn’t a howler attached to the bird’s leg. He’d received a fair amount of those from the dark haired male and they were never pretty.

Snapping his beak in obvious distaste with how slowly Remus was moving, the bird glared at Remus until he finally reached forward and untied the letter from its foot. The owl is just as impatient as it’s master, the werewolf mused as he grabbed an owl treat with his free hand. The messenger owl gladly accepted the food, lightly nipping at Remus’ finger in thanks before he was off again.

At least the bird was better at getting over its temper than his friend, the man smiled, his fingers deftly untying the string of the paper so that he could read the neat scrawl,

 

_Remus,_

_Be around your place at 5 today, we need to talk. It’s important._

 

A bemused frown immediately painted the werewolf’s scarred visage as he read and reread the incredibly short letter, his eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to process just what was going on. Sirius hardly ever sent a short letter, especially not one that seemed so serious.

“What on earth is he up to…?” The man mumbled mildly to himself, the last traces of sleep fogging his brain fading only to be replaced with anxiety.

Sirius certainly did not seem happy; he had even used Remus’ first name to address the letter. Sirius always titled his letters with the nicknames he and his friends had used at Hogwarts. There was no room for argument, that was clear, and the werewolf found himself uncertain of what to do. He was supposed to disapparate to the North before noon to find the pack he was meant to interact with. They didn’t know he was coming – they _never_ did, much to Remus’ discontent – but Dumbledore had wanted him to get there at a certain time regardless. Something about how they were running out of time to make allies and so they had to act with careful haste. However, he hadn’t really spoken to any of his friends in far too long – with Sirius constantly on his own missions, James in hiding with his wife and son, and Peter off on tasks and doing whatever it was he did with his free time.

The idea of seeing his dark haired friend pleased Remus, despite the fact that their last meeting had resulted in the werewolf’s angry departure. Sirius had seemed to hold some form of anger towards Remus, for reasons he couldn’t even begin to guess at, and Remus had been too tired from the past day’s full moon to care. Tensions always ran high during times of war and Remus had figured, later, that that was what had caused Black’s outburst. His best friend was being threatened and Remus couldn’t fault him for his unease.

Perhaps they could make amends for that unfortunate meeting that day if the news Black was bringing wasn’t too bad.

Setting the mail down, Remus returned to his tea, his mind made up. He would simply meet up with Sirius at 5 and then depart for the North. It wasn’t exactly what Dumbledore had wanted, but it would work out. It wasn’t as though the headmaster would know anyway.

 

Xxx

 

The rest of the day passed slowly. Remus, having been planning to leave much earlier, had already packed the night before, leaving him with nothing more to do than tidy up his rather beaten up apartment, drink tea, and read.

He was just preparing another cup of the beverage when there was a knock on his door. A discrete glance at his watch informed the werewolf that it was 5:08 – _that must be Sirius_.

With a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, Remus set the kettle down to instead grab the door. A quick glance was cast to the peephole – because one could never be too careful during a time of war – before the door was opened.

Sirius Black stood at his doorstep with a decidedly blank expression that did not falter even when Remus smiled at him. He looked thoughtful and determined and Remus felt his smile disappear. _What was going on?_

“Sirius, it’s been a while.” Remus greeted politely as he stepped aside to let his friend in, his gaze curiously following his friend’s back as he entered and headed straight towards the kitchen table, “Is something wrong?”

The animagus appeared to not hear him as he disregarded both of Remus’ comments. Instead he merely sat down at the kitchen chair closest to the door and took to staring at the werewolf immediately afterwards. His gray eyes were hard and devoid of the amusement that usually caused them to sparkle in the light.

Something was very wrong.

“Padfoot…” Remus said softly, his attention flickering from his friend to his half prepared tea in uncertainty, “Would you like some tea? I was just making some when you knocked.”

“No. Thanks.” Sirius’ voice was gruff and to the point and Remus knew better than to argue.

“Alright…”  
It was silent as Remus finished making his tea and quietly sat next to Sirius, an eyebrow raising as he leveled his friend with an expectant look.

“Where have you been, Remus?”

The mug that he had started to rise to his lips paused at the direct question, his attention immediately flickering from the dark liquid to instead stare at his friend in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

Sirius appeared to bite back laughter at the response, although he couldn’t detect a trace of mirth on Sirius’ features, nor could Remus even begin to fathom what would have been funny.

“Don’t play ignorant with me.” Sirius frowned, his elbows moving to rest on the table as he leaned closer to Remus, “All those Order meetings that you missed, where we you?”

The werewolf paused at the demanding question and he lowered his mug to rest on the table, his fingers still curled around it. He wasn’t allowed to answer that question, Dumbledore had warned him not to, and Remus struggled to find a way to answer it without flat out fibbing to the other.

“I’ve been on missions; you know that Padfoot.”

The nickname was used in an attempt to calm his serious friend, but, if the sudden tensing of his posture was any hint, it did exactly the opposite.

“Bullshit. If you’ve really been on missions than what were they? Where did you have to go?

“I can’t tell you.” Remus replied shortly, his gaze refusing to meet Sirius’ narrowed eyes as he thumbed his quickly cooling cup of tea uncomfortably, “I told you… I promised I wouldn’t, not yet.”

“You promised, did you?” Sirius’ voice was uncharacteristically cold as he spoke, the hands resting before him on the table clenching into tight fists as he just barely managed to resist the urge to punch his friend, “And that promise is more important than the promise you made _us_ , huh? To be loyal and never join _them_!”

Remus felt as though Sirius expected him to understand his vague accusations, but he could do nothing but stare blankly at him. He doesn’t know what his friend wants from him, but, if it was an apology for their last conversation, Remus certainly didn’t felt as though he was the one that ought to give it.

“Just what is it that you’re accusing me of doing?” Remus asked cautiously, his tone and expression apparently far too calm for the other because, instead of placating him, it seemed to anger him even more. His gray eyes were glaring far too harshly at the tawny haired man and he began to feel uncomfortable, though he refused to show it. He met the fiery gaze with his own defiant one and that appeared to be what finally cracked Sirius’ already weak self-control.

Within seconds Sirius was standing from his chair and throwing himself towards Remus, the conversation and Remus’ refusal to back down seeming to only fuel his ire. The movements all happened so fast, faster than either of the men could really fully acknowledge. There was the sharp clatter and splash of a mug full of tea smashing onto the floor, littering the otherwise clean kitchen with the cool liquid, before the clanking of chairs falling and two heavy bodies hitting the floor echoed throughout the sparse apartment.

“How could you do it, Remus?!” It was the first time in years that Sirius actually used his first name, and the intensity in gray eyes now hovering inches over his own brought Remus to silence, “How the hell could you side with **_him_**?!”

They lay there, surrounded by broken glass and fallen chairs, Sirius’s tackle having resulted in his pinning Remus to the ground as he glared at the still shocked man below him.

Remus couldn’t wrap his head around the whole thing, his gaze still a bit fuzzy from the assault his head had taken upon his initial landing on the floor, and it took a few long blinks before the werewolf could finally see his seething and hurt friend’s face clearly.

 _What was he talking about?_ Remus breathed, brow furrowing and pinned arms twitching as he attempted to figure out why Sirius was so angry about him helping Dumbledore. Certainly his being around other Werewolf colonies wasn’t any of their concern, and honestly he couldn’t even begin to figure out how it was that his friends would have even learned about that. Dumbledore had made it clear that his being a spy was to be kept confidential from everyone, even his friends.

“Sirius, I don’t…” Suddenly breaking off mid-sentence, Remus’s light eyes widened in a melancholy combination of disbelief and realization, his gaze meeting the other man’s although he’s hardly about to acknowledge what he was seeing. His stomach, currently holding most of Sirius’s weight, dropped as he finally acknowledged what his friend’s accusation really meant, “Wait, you’re accusing _me_ of being the spy. You think _I’m_ the one that has been telling Voldemort about James?”

The grip on his biceps tightened uncomfortably at the mention of James’ name, and Lupin couldn’t mask the grimace that seized his features at both the grip and the furious look Sirius was directing at him. He’s never seen the other man level one of those glances at him before, and, instead of infuriating him, he feels himself deflate.

If Sirius was confronting him about this, it meant the others must have already known and thought the same thing. His friends had already decided that he was guilty without even _asking_ Remus and that realization hurt him more than any physical damage an angry Sirius could deal him.

“Don’t you dare say his name.” Sirius growled, face lowering closer to Remus’s in a clear threat, “Are you denying that you are?! Then for once in your life be honest Remus! If you want me to believe that your disappearances haven’t been to see Voldemort, where have you _been_?”

For months, at Dumbledore’s commands Remus had been disappearing for days on end to meet with the small packs of werewolves throughout Europe. Dumbledore had enlisted his help to attempt to convince them to, if not join their side should Voldemort start a war, to at least not join his. Dumbledore had insisted that, if they had any chance of ever gaining their assistance, it would only be through the negations of a fellow werewolf and, fortunate or not, Remus had been the only candidate Dumbledore knew he could trust.

“Ask Dumbledore…” Remus finally said weakly, his teeth gritting as he struggled internally with what to do. If he told Sirius the truth he’d be betraying Dumbledore’s trust, but, if he lied, he’d lose the best friends he ever had.

_Dumbledore would have to understand. I don’t have a choice._

“Where I’ve been is with other werewolf packs.” A pregnant pause full of tension had lapsed through the air between Remus’s initial response and his new one, his tone wavering in thinly veiled pain, “Dumbledore gave me a special mission that I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about, not even you guys. He made that clear. With Voldemort rising in influence and promising dark creatures perks for joining his cause, Dumbledore was afraid that he’d be able to get a lot of the more neutral packs to join him. So, he sent me to try and convince them to join our side.”

A hollow laugh escaped Remus before he could help it, his eyes closing in exasperation as a small, mirthless smile quirked the corner of his lips. Above him he felt Sirius’s stance waver and the grip on his arms became nearly nonexistent.

“A lot of good that did us.” Remus chuckled dryly, the burning sensation of someone watching him convincing him to keep his eyes closed as he continued. He couldn’t meet Sirius’s gaze now or he was afraid he’ll lose all ability to continue telling the story, “The wolves may not like Voldemort and his cause, but I think it’s pretty safe to say they hate wizards even more. Not that I can blame them, really. What can I really offer them, after all? Voldemort has promised them potions to help with transformations and equal rights. What do we have for them? Prejudice and hate? I dare say the only thing a lot of them hated more than wizards was a werewolf who let himself become their ‘pet’. Some chased me right out, and I couldn’t blame them, but there were some who let me stay around, though I don’t think I got anywhere with them either.”

Remus allowed silence to lapse around them for several moments before he finally opened his eyes again, a part of him almost afraid to see Sirius’s reaction. Would he believe him? Or did they already hate him so much that they wouldn’t believe anything he said?

The sight that met him didn’t help the nausea settling deep in his gut. Before him still sat Sirius, although he didn’t look nearly as angry as he had. Instead his disposition screamed skepticism and mistrust and the werewolf found himself once more incapable of holding the dark haired man’s gaze. That is the look that everyone gave him once they discovered what he was, a monster, a _freak_ , and, seeing it on the face of the man he secretly loved was too much for him.

 _Took him long enough to finally see me for what I am_ , he couldn’t help but think sardonically, his head lolling to the side in defeat. _They finally realized dark creatures couldn’t be trusted and, if I’m was honest, I can’t blame them_.

“…Do you have any proof…?”

The question was uttered so softly that Remus almost thought that he imagined it, his head snapping back to look in bewilderment at his friend.

“…Ask Dumbledore…” He found himself repeating, his voice almost as soft as Sirius’s own, “He’s the only other person who knows about what I’ve been doing.”

“No, I don’t have time for that. If you aren’t the spy, then it means I’ve made a mistake that I have to fix immediately. Find another way to prove it.”

Eyebrows furrowing in evident confusion, Remus leveled a bemused glance at his suddenly stiff friend. What did he mean that he made a mistake? What was going on that he wasn’t aware of?

“Okay…” The werewolf slowly agreed, opting to hold off his own questioning until his innocence was proven, “But, in order to do that, I’m going to need you to get off of me.”

Immediately Sirius’ expression morphed back into one of distrust, his chin tilting up as he regarded Remus from the corner of his eyes,

“Why? How do I know the moment I move you won’t hex me and run off to your leader?”

“Because…” The sneer came out dry and hurt as Remus glared at Sirius, “In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t got my wand on me. If you’re so intent on detaining me at least just shift your weight off my stomach so I can lift my shirt – and, before you say anything, it’s just to show you the proof you want.”

The dark haired male visibly hesitated at the request and, after apparently deeming the request alright, gave a slight nod before he moved to adjust his position. Instead of sitting on Remus’ stomach, he moved to kneel between his legs, his arms raising off of Remus only to swiftly pull his wand from his pocket to point it at the werewolf. Remus steeled his features at the display of blatant hostility, refusing to allow the other to see just how much it pained him.

“I told you the communities weren’t happy when I visited them as a human. So, Dumbledore thought that, perhaps, visiting one on the full moon might allow my wolf self to fall into a pack dynamic with them. He hoped that, if their wolves bonded with mine, they would be more in favor of listening to what I had to say.” Remus snickered softly at the sheer memory of the story, even now realizing how ridiculous it sounded. But, he supposed, Dumbledore had been desperate when he had the idea and Remus had been too, “Turns out their wolf selves hated outsiders even more than their human parts did.”

Without further ado the werewolf sighed and, sitting up, lowered an arm to grip the corner of his shirt before yanking it up with a quick movement. There was a gasp of shock that reverberated from the dark haired male and, despite the fact that Remus refused to look at either his stomach or his friend, he knew precisely what inspired the reaction.

“Admittedly, I’d never known much about werewolf culture. I never really cared to. These trips helped me learn a great deal, though. I can’t blame wizards for hating us.”

Remus stopped himself before he could continue, certain that Sirius was no longer paying any heed to his voice. Instead he seems transfixed on the still healing wounds lacing Remus’ pale, white skin. Remus had always had scars littering his lithe body, white, ghostly lines that reminded him every day of what he was, and Sirius had seen all the wounds more times than he could count. Every full moon he would awaken as Padfoot, wrapped around the cold, shaking and naked body of Remus, and he had once admitted that he had come to memorize the imperfections. Years before Sirius had revealed that he had grown to see them as accentuating Remus’ good looks rather than taking away from them, though the werewolf never could say he agreed. It gave him a certain ruggedness that his rather timid and uncertain body language hinted the opposite of.

Now, however, there were fierce red lines overlapping the past scars, the bright color an alarming contrast to the fading purple and green bruises covering the vast majority of his stomach. He knew it wasn’t these marks that caused Sirius to gasp though, as he had seen wounds like these numerous times in the past when Remus’ wolf-self had been particularly angry at himself. Instead, it was the fresh bite mark that was placed directly on top of the one Fenrir had given Remus when he was merely four years old. The wound was a brighter red than the other fading cuts, and the distinctive outline of teeth – canine teeth – can still be distinguished through the mess of healing skin.

“Merlin Remus…” Sirius finally breathed after moments of silence had transpired between them, pausing only a second longer before he carefully lowered a hand to hover above the vicious bite, “This… This is the same exact kind of bite…”

“Yes, it’s remarkable how well they managed to replicate it,” Remus mused bitterly, silently relieved that the other man had finally said _something_ to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them for the past few minutes, “Hurt like hell, but, on the bright side, I didn’t have to worry about the side effects of the bite like I did last time. Can’t turn someone who’s already a beast.”

Sirius seemed to acknowledge that Remus was attempting to crack a joke, but the slight break in his even voice as he uttered the word ‘beast’ no doubt made it clear to the dark haired male that he didn’t find anything about this conversation even remotely amusing.

“You’re telling the truth…” The words were uttered in such sheer disbelief that Remus could tell he spoke without thinking. His gray eyes widened as he turned his attention finally away from the wounds to stare at Remus’ face, “You’re… Bloody hell, you’re telling the _truth_ … And I was sitting on that, _gods_ Moony, why didn’t you tell me!”

“You weren’t exactly keen on listening to me, now were you?”

Swiftly scrambling fully off of the downed man, Sirius moved to sit just off to the side of him, his mind running wild as he contemplated just what all of this meant.

There was only one creature that could have replicated a bite like that, and there was no way Remus would have been able to bite himself. That means he really is telling the truth and damn it, that meant that Moony really _wasn’t_ the worm. It also explains why the last full moon, which had been two weeks prior, had been one where Remus insisted they needn’t come.

_It means that Remus was innocent – he didn’t turn on them, turn on **him**!_

Before he could help himself Sirius wrapped his arms around the younger man’s shoulders, his head nestling in dirty blonde locks as he dragged his friend’s head against his chest in sheer relief,

“Merlin I’m so sorry Moony! You were just always disappearing for long periods of time with such piss poor excuses that I thought…. Shit, _we_ thought you betrayed us, but you didn’t, because you’re Moony, and I’m a bloody idiot….”

“Well, I can’t exactly argue with that…” Remus chuckled breathlessly, still slightly taken aback by the abrupt change in his friend’s attitude. He went from willing to curse him to embracing him so fast that, had he been anyone other than the dramatic Sirius Black, Lupin would be concerned for his mental health, “Sometimes I think James is right – you would make a better dog than human. At least then you’d be a tamable idiot.”

Another joke, Sirius realized, and his expression fell into one of concern at the small voice Remus was still using. The dark haired male had just accused his friend of committing one of the worst acts possible – betraying their family.

“I just thought… It just made sense…” The words didn’t make any sense, neither in his mind nor aloud, but the animagus didn’t appear to care, his mind racing too swiftly for his jumbled up speech to even really register, “They seem to know all of our personal information… Stuff that only the four of us would know… The rat couldn’t have been James, his family is the one being targeted for merlin’s sake, and you kept disappearing without saying why. Then Peter…”

The minute the name slipped past his lips everything fell into place and, had Sirius not still been holding Remus, he thought he may have thrown up.

If Remus was going on undercover missions for the Order, and he and James weren’t the spy, that could only mean…

“It’s Peter…” Remus forced his face away from his friend’s quivering chest when Sirius spoke, his own visage morphing into one of befuddlement as he acknowledged how pale his friend had become, “He’s the spy… He must be… But then… SHIT!”

Before the werewolf even knew what was happening Sirius bolted upright, sub sequentially yanking his friend up with him as he seemed to forget that he still held Remus in his grip.

“We have to go – No, _I_ have to go. You have to rest, and I… Oh Merlin I hope I’m not too late…”  
Sirius was already sticking his wand back into his pocket and was halfway to the door before Remus mustered up the ability to speak, his brain still failing to actually compute just what the hell was going on.

“Wait, what are you talking about? If it is Peter you should talk to Dumbledore, or, hell, even Peter himself. You’re the secret keeper, so it should be fine if-…”

“I’m not.”

“Pardon?”

Boot clad feet uncomfortably shifted from one to the other as Sirius stared anxiously from the door to his bemused friend. He knew Remus deserved answers, _real_ answers, but he just didn’t have time now. Not when he so royally screwed everything up.

“I- shit Moons – I thought you were the rat so I- I convinced James to change secret keepers. Damn it, I don’t have time to explain right now, but I need you to know that I’m _not_ the secret keeper. Peter is. I thought he was safe and that you -… I’m such a god damn fool!”

A hand thrown through the fading, dull gray wallpaper of Remus’ apartment caused Remus to jump and Sirius to wince in slight pain, though he knew he deserved it.

“Peter, that rat, is the secret keeper, which means he’s no doubt gone off and told Voldemort exactly where to find them and I can’t let him get to them first Remus. _I have to go_.”

With that Sirius was out the door, leaving a perplexed and pale werewolf in his wake.

 

 

 

“He’s _innocent_ ,” Remus almost snarled, the anger he was  barely suppressing making itself known by the clipped edge in his usually even tone and the tightly clenched fists at his side, “He told me that the Potters changed secret keepers! They changed it to Peter because they didn’t think they could trust _me_.”

His voice wavered at the last word and he involuntarily winced at the memory of Sirius’ furious and accusatory words, but he continued nonetheless. Now isn’t the time to dwell on that, he reminded himself. Now he had to convince Dumbledore that Sirius was innocent and, as a result, should be released immediately. It had been three days since the event that turned his life upside down and it was only now that he had finally managed to get into contact with Dumbledore.

“H-He went to the Potter’s the minute he realized that Peter was the spy but he -…” Remus’ words trailed off at that, his hand gesturing vaguely towards Dumbledore in silent explanation. He knew the Headmaster could figure out what he was attempting to convey- the guy was smart and, honestly, Remus still couldn’t bring himself to outwardly admit what had happened to the Potters. It was almost as though saying that they were dead aloud would make it more official than it already was and Remus couldn’t – _wouldn’t_ deal with that right now. James and Lily, as much as he loved them, were beyond his help right now. But Sirius, there was still a chance the werewolf could save _him_.

Harry too, Remus suddenly remembered, his light eyes meeting Dumbledore’s own as that realization suddenly dawned on him. Harry’s parents weren’t around anymore and Sirius, his legal godfather, was in prison. There was no one to take care of him.

As though aware of the inner turmoil boiling behind the slowly slipping façade of the other man, Dumbledore slowly sipped on his cup of tea as he allowed him to slowly center his thoughts. With how calm and collected the elder looked, Remus almost though they were discussing nothing more than the weather, and the werewolf felt his temper rise.

“I believe you.” Dumbledore finally replied when several moments of further silence elapsed and the werewolf made no further move to speak, “However, this situation is a terrible one to be in, I’m afraid. As far as I and the other Order members are aware, Sirius Black was the secret keeper for the Potters and, while I do believe what you say, I fear others may not. Black actively sought out Pettigrew and, as many eye witnesses claimed, killed him. That does not look good for him nor does it assist in adding credibility to his story.”

Remus’ stomach dropped at the pitying tone in the Headmaster’s voice and he gulped, the stiffness previously strengthening his posture all but disappearing as he slumped despondently onto the chair he hadn’t so much as glanced at since he walked in.

“But I know, I can _tell_ them. They can use whatever they want to make certain I’m not lying. I even-…” Remus paused abruptly as he watched Dumbledore raise his hand up in a clear order for him to stop, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. However, he did as he was told and took to merely staring at his past headmaster.

“Remus, as much as I know this pains you, I need to remind you of not only the position Black is in, but also the one you will be putting yourself in if you choose to associate with clearing his name. While I, who has known you since you were a child, know better, I cannot say that other Ministry officials will not regard your word with considerable suspicion. You have no evidence other than Black’s word and I, regrettably, most remind you of your condition. People would be skeptical to believe a memory of Black entrusting me with that information, but, for a werewolf…” The older man trailed off with a small, sympathetic frown, his hands clasping on the table right beside his empty cup of tea, “They may very well believe that you had something to do with the betrayal, as the Potters themselves suspected that of you.”

Remus winced at the reminder but Dumbledore continued nonetheless,

“My boy, I am truly devastated over what has taken place, however there is little even I can do to ease the situation. The only advice I can offer you is to recover and do not lose hope. I have a feeling one day a situation will arise that will allow us a better course of action, but, as of now, you can only save yourself. I can assist you in escaping questioning from the Ministry as an accomplice of Black, but only if you do not try and incriminate yourself by repeating to anyone what you have told me.”

Before he was fully aware he was making the expression, Remus blanched, not able to believe what he was hearing. There’s _nothing_ Dumbledore can do? So he’s willing to allow Sirius, the most loyal, amazing, _innocent_ man he knows, to wallow away in that hell hole? Why? Why is he so insistently cryptid with his words?

“You aren’t going to help him…” Remus murmured more to himself than Albus, his previously clenched hands raising to shakenly rub at his face, “What of Harry, Dumbledore? What has become of him?”

“I arranged for Hagrid to take him to live with his Aunt and Uncle. He should be there by now. Lily died protecting her son, so the blood protection will do well to protect the boy should anyone decide to attempt to attack him again.”

Remus lowered his hands just enough to reveal his tired eyes once again as he considered Dumbledore’s response, the dark bags under his eyes making him appear years older than he actually was.

“His Uncle and Aunt…” Remus repeated dryly, tired mind foggy as he mulled those words over in confusion. James was an only child and his own parents had passed away already, as had Lily’s. That could only leave….

“You cannot be serious!” The werewolf shot up from his seat once again and he felt his blood run cold as he glared at his past headmaster in sheer outrage, “You can’t possibly believe leaving Harry with Petunia and her husband to be the best course of action. Lily told me how much her sister abhorred magic, as did her husband!”

“I know, Remus.” Dumbledore attempted to reason, his smile attempting to placate the other man, “But it is the safest place for him right now. Voldemort might be weakened now and for the foreseeable future, but there are many death eaters still at large that would like nothing more than to be the one to end the life that killed their leader. The blood protection that Lily left for Harry will keep him protected better than any spell you or even I could cast. I’m sorry, Remus, if I could give him to any other family I would, but the fact remains that my hands are tied.”

“That may be so,” Remus conceded, his gaze settling entirely on the headmaster, “But is allowing the boy to endure years of abuse really worth that protection? I know Petunia, Professor, and I know that Lily would never want her sister to raise her magical son.”

He paused for a moment, trying to piece together his argument before he continued,

“I know I wasn’t his godfather – that was always meant for Sirius, but I’ll take care of him. Please, James and Lily both would prefer that over the alternative, given the circumstances.”

Dumbledore’s eye soften at the plea and Remus knows he already has a rebuttal to his request. His empty stomach dropped– he hadn’t been able to keep anything big down since their deaths- and his hand reached down to grip the arm of his chair tightly.

“Remus, there is nobody else out that that could be as sure as I am that you would make an excellent father, however I must remind you of the strengthening werewolf regulation laws. To get them to allow you to adopt any kid, let alone the ‘boy who lived’ would be near impossible. Not to mention your financial situation…”

The headmaster’s voice softened at his last few words until he eventually trailed off, his blue eyes glistening with the same sympathy that Lupin always hated.

“Is there nothing I can do…?” His spoke so softly that he wouldn’t be surprised if the older male didn’t even hear him, but at that point he wasn’t sure he cared or even wanted to know the answer, “Is my only option truly to just move on from this? To allow two of my best friend’s son to grow up in a home where he is not welcomed?”

Appearing to take mercy on the slowly deflating man before him, Dumbledore intertwined his own hands and rested them under his chin,

“The best thing you can do now, Remus, is, as I said, to heal. Harry will need you one day, though I’m afraid that day may not be as soon as you may like. It is, however, crucial that you do not do anything rash until then. We do not want Harry knowing anything of his magical heritage until the day he joins Hogwarts, for his own safety. Be patient, my boy. I understand that what I am asking of you is something I have no right to, but I must regardless.”

Numbly, Remus nodded and stood up from his seat. Dumbledore had made his stance on the matter very clear.

“I see. I- I have to go.”

With his brain whirling and limbs feeling heavy, Remus rose from his chair and was halfway to the fireplace before Dumbledore spoke again,

“Please take care, Remus, and remember what I have said to you this night. We have already taken far too many losses; we cannot afford to lose you as well.”

“I-… Yes, Professor. Good night.”

Floo powder was scooped and thrown into the fireplace in silence. Remus waited for the flames to turn green before he stepped in and shouted the location of his apartment. The world spun around him and he felt weightless and numb for a moment, one glorious moment, before his feet met the wood of his floor roughly enough to jar him. He blinked, once, twice, before he could clear his bleary vision enough to make out the old furniture mere feet from him.

It was only now, when he had escaped the penetrating gaze of Dumbledore, that Remus allowed himself to truly feel. His hands rose to grab at his hair and his vision was once again blurred, though this time by tears.

In one night he had lost everyone that he held dear and, now, the only person he believed to be able to help him had flat out insisted that there was nothing to be done. Sirius would remain at Azakaban for a crime he would never commit and Harry, young Harry, faced a life of neglect and abuse.

So now, his options exhausted, Remus felt the adrenaline that had been surging through his veins since he had learned of their deaths disappear and he suddenly felt nothing but empty. Wet sobs rocked his body and he barely managed to drag himself to the couch before he allowed himself to wallow in the pain. He would never be able to visit the Potters again, never be able to discuss books and joke with Lily or talk and play games with James. He would never be able to hold Harry in his arms and read to him, nor would he be able to meet up to grab a coffee with Sirius when the missions got to be too much. Peter, one of his best friends, had taken all that from him.

 _Peter_ , Remus suddenly thought, his watery eyes flickering up to gaze at the flames still dancing in his fireplace, he must still be alive. Sirius may have had a temper, but there was no way he would have killed Peter by setting off an explosion that would have also killed innocent bystanders. Besides, his body was never found, a suspicious fact, and Remus momentarily nursed the likelihood of Peter faking his own death.

Peter always clung to those that he perceived to have the most power, which would explain why he had turned to the side that he thought was winning. It hurt the werewolf to admit it, but he supposed that hindsight was really 20/20. His loyalty to his friends had blinded him from realizing that Peter, by sheer personality, would betray them with the drop of a hat if he believed their side to be losing. He valued self-preservation above all else, and, now that Voldemort had been ‘killed’ by the boy Wormtail helped him get to, Remus imagined that the death-eaters wouldn’t be too happy with him anymore. They would no doubt blame him for their leader’s fall, leaving Peter in a rough spot.

But then, if Peter had not been killed by Black as everyone thought, what had happened? Wormtail’s body had been nowhere in sight, save for his finger, so what became of him? The muggles had not reported hearing a loud crack, so he couldn’t have disapparated, and he was cornered, so there was no way he ran…

That is, unless he ran as something that wasn’t a _human_ … A human running from the scene would have been sighted, but a rat… In a dirty, old corner of a muggle street, no one would have batted an eye at seeing a _rat_ …

Remus’ blood ran cold as he realized what had happened and he felt his tears decrease as his thoughts took a turn. That was the only thing that could have made sense, he was sure of it. Sirius wouldn’t have lied to him like that if he was the one guilty of murdering his friends. If anything, if it really had been Padfoot that was a mass murderer, why would he not have killed Remus before he left? During their confrontation Remus was not in possession of his wand, as it had been left on the counter while he was brewing his tea. There was nothing stopping Black from murdering him before he went off to kill Wormtail.

His hands rose to roughly wipe away the warm tears still slipping down his cheeks, his sadness swiftly morphing into anger. If his suspicions are correct, and he truly believed they were, then that meant there was still hope, however faint.

If he could locate Peter and turn him in, then he could prove Sirius’ innocence. Then, once Sirius was free, they could fight to get Dumbledore to allow Sirius guardianship of Harry, as he was his rightful godfather. By catching Peter, he could, at the very least, save the two people that were not completely lost to him quite yet.

Now, the only problem was, _how_?


	2. Godric's Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus struggles to find Peter but, after running into an unlikely ghost from his past, Remus finally finds himself formulating a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to put this before the last chapter, but I forgot.  
> Disclaimer: As an American that makes tea in a mug with a teabag, I have only the slightest idea how a kettle and the like works, so I apologize if I completely butcher the British tea making process. I headcanon Remus as an avid tea drinker, so he'll probably be making it a lot. I apologize.

Surprisingly, finding a rat in a huge city was proving difficult, especially when said rat could easily have escaped to another continent by now. Who would have thought. 

Remus sneered softly to himself at that thought, his head bent down into the collar of his worn coat and his hands jammed firmly into the pockets of his coat. He purposely adverted the lingering gazes of muggles, having already grown accustomed to the stares the scars on his face attracted. The wizarding world was, after all, the same, though, at the very least, he received pitying looks from the muggles, whom appeared to believe he had been mauled by some aggressive beast. The wizards, on the other hand, particularly the purebloods, eyed him with suspicion and a knowing gaze that sent a shiver down his spine. As much as he despised pity, he would always prefer it over blatant disgust.

When Remus finally managed to disentangle himself from the mid-afternoon hustle and bustle of the streets by rearing off into an alley, he sighed, silently relieved to have the piercing looks off of his back. The short, dirty stretch of the side street before him smelled terribly of animal excrement and trash, but Remus continued forward regardless. Red liquid stained the floor in random patterns throughout the entrance of the alley – blood, his nose automatically told him as he flinched – and Remus was certain that he had found the right place.

Moving further until he was facing the brick wall that ended the alley, the werewolf sucked in a breath before looking down. There, inches from his left shoe, was a small red strain – the blood from Peter’s finger.

Remus had searched the area thoroughly several days ago in the feeble hope that Pettigrew had decided to hang around the area. In the end he had, of course, been smart enough to flee the scene, and, despite himself, Remus couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Some smaller, ‘the good always prevail!’ childish side of him insisted that it would be simple to track the rat down and hand him into the ministry to clear Sirius’ name. It was how all the movies and books worked out – the innocent would inevitably win out despite the adversary of the bad – but Remus was far too old and experienced in the ways of the world to believe that mainstream media nonsense. If that was true than he wouldn’t be here in this grungy alley at all. Instead he would be at Godric’s Hollow, joking with Lily, James, and Sirius while Harry giggled and sputtered with them.

Crouching down, Remus studied the small, dry red strain with irritation. Through the grime layering the black asphalt, the werewolf’s slight wolf senses could just barely make out the vague scent of Peter, a scent he had grown to associate with ‘friend’ over the years. If only he could use that scent to track the rat down…

Perhaps if he was in his wolf form he could latch onto the slowly fading scent better, because, while his sense of smell was better than most people in his human form, it was still not nearly as excellent as it was when he was a wolf. However, even though the full moon was only a week away, he could never risk the safety of others by allowing himself out while in his transformed state. His wolf side would completely forget his mission the moment he transformed and would, no doubt, seek out fresher blood than this pathetically small, days old puddle.

A shaky hand raked through tawny hair in frustration at his lack of options and he cast a particularly irritated glance at the faded splatter of red before he stood up once more and blearily glanced around. The alley was still empty – he mused that people believed the area to be haunted now, after the massacre that killed 12 muggles – and he found himself glad it was. Before it had been a common smoking area, explaining why there was a group of muggles close enough for Peter to slaughter, but now the only evidence of that was the series of discarded cigarettes lining the pavement and the various scarlet patches on the ground.

This alley had been the last place Pettigrew had been seen alive, though Remus knew it would not be the last, and he struggled to figure out just where it was that the rat could have gone. He had no other friends than Lily, James, himself, and Sirius. There couldn’t be any death eaters out there willing to offer the short man sanctuary, and Peter appeared to be smart enough to know not to seek out the werewolf’s apartment. Whether or not the man knew Remus had been informed of the secret keeper switch, the werewolf wasn’t certain, but he supposed it didn’t matter anyway. Peter was gone and Remus had to somehow find him.

Frowning in exasperation, the smell became too much to bear and Remus, after sending a swift glance over his shoulder to ensure there were no muggles about, disapparated away.

 

Xxx

 

Days passed and Remus found himself no closer to locating Peter than he had been before. There had been no mention of him being sighted anywhere, not that Remus was surprised. Peter might not have been the smartest among them, but he was clever, he had to have been to survive the Marauders for years, and Remus knew from experience that he was difficult to locate when he did not wish to be found.

As more and more time passed, Remus felt his resolve begin to fade. There were no spells that he knew of that could be used to track down a person and the only individual he could ask for further assistance was Dumbledore, whom had already made his stance on the subject quite clear - He wanted to let sleeping dogs lie.

The scarred man supposed there was a special kind of irony to that saying when he put it in the same context as Sirius, and he drummed his fingers mirthlessly against the counter of his kitchen. He’d searched through all the spell books he could get his hands on – which, admittedly weren’t too many, he just didn’t have the funds for a large collection– but still had not managed to locate anything that would prove useful to his search.

The only section that had ignited even an inkling of an idea in his mind was when he came across a small paragraph talking about the animagus spell and it’s use in helping wizards track people down when there was a particularly bad accident.

Some people’s animagus, like Sirius’, proved useful during natural disasters to help Aurors locate people beneath rubble, and that notion had brought an idea to Remus’ mind.

James’ patronus had been a stag and so had his animagus form. Sirius’ had been a black dog both times, and Peter’s, well, Remus wasn’t certain Peter ever actually managed to cast a corporal patronus. However, those facts being as they were, Remus thought it rather safe to conclude that, in all likelihood, one’s patronus and their animagus form would be the same.

If that was indeed true, then that would mean his animagus form would be a wolf, just like the patronus he always hated. It seemed to him a certain kind of cruel irony that everything about him was so inexplicably tied to the wolf that he hated.

Despite that, though, wolves were excellent trackers and perfect predators to hunt down small animals, like rats. Maybe… If he managed to complete the transformation like his friends had, he would be able to hunt down Peter…

It was a long shot, and Remus had no idea how the transformation would affect a werewolf – would he be trapped in his wolf form forever? – but it was the only idea he had.

He was crazy, he knew his friends would say so if they were there, as they had been the ones that had fiercely rejected Remus’ offer to learn the transformation with them, just in case it had poor side effects. However, two of them were dead, one had betrayed them, and the other needed his help, so they really couldn’t say much at all.

With measured steps, Remus exited his house before disapparting away to the one place he knew still contained books that would assist him with his animagus research – Godric’s Hollow. It had been the books that James acquired that assisted his friends in successfully completing the task, and the werewolf was certain James would not have disposed of the textbooks afterwards.

The world spun for several moments before Remus found himself facing the half destroyed house that had once posed as his home away from home. It had been not even a month since Remus had last exited those doors in a fury, Sirius’ attitude having grated on his nerves. He hadn’t understood why the black haired male was so frosty to him at the time, but now it made far too much sense.

There was caution tape crossing the front door that shouted at wizard passersby’s to continue on their way, but Remus paid their screeches no mind as he ducked under it and carefully made his way up to the room that served as their makeshift library.

He trained his vision ahead as he moved, determined not to allow his resolve to waver as he passed by the overturned furniture that they had all once laughed on, and especially shielded his gaze as he passed by the large red stain at the top of the stairs that nearly caused him to throw up.

He closed his eyes and allowed his muscle memory to take him the rest of the way to his desired room, having grown too fearful of what he would see if he allowed his eyes to remain open much longer.

It was only when he felt the cool knob of the library door press into his hand that he allowed his eyes to open once more. The door opened easily and Remus swiftly stepped into the room, unsurprised to see that it was, perhaps, the only room in the house that had suffered no damage from the attack only a bit more than a week ago.

The shelves all stood as tall as ever and books neatly lined them. There was a wooden desk and plush chair in the corner of the small room with a clock above it (Lily did love her muggle technology) jammed between two long shelves. Two worn but comfortable armchairs and two beanbags thrown into the middle of the room completed the look and, if Remus allowed himself to relax, for merely a moment, he almost felt as though the room was lost in time. He could imagine his friends all thrown on the furniture, books laid out on their laps despite the fact that no reading could actually be conducted through the air of laughter that filled the room.

But imagining what was not real was dangerous, he reminded himself, and steadily moved past the chairs to instead search through the shelves for the books he needed, muttering a soft _‘lumos’_ as he went.

The steady tic of the grandfather clock was the only noise for Remus didn’t know how long as he sorted through all the books, his wand abandoned on the desk to free his hand and to provide light. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for the order of shelving and, after what had to have been half an hour, Remus felt himself growing frustrated. Lily had way too many books!

“And just what do you think you’re doing here, _mutt_?”  
Remus actually jumped at the sudden, cold voice and immediately turned on his heel to face the entrance. There, standing in the doorway, wand pointed directly at him, was Snape. His dark eyes were as cold as ever and his lips were downturned in a disgusted grimace. His dark, greasy hair hung limply around his face, causing his thin face to appear more shadowy than Remus felt it ought to.

“Severus? What are you doing here?”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized that Snape had already asked him that exact same question, but, before he could correct himself, Snape cut him off.

“I believe I asked you that first. Is your canine mind really that small that you can’t process simple speech?”

Remus frowned at the insult, but knew better than to return it. Snape still stood with his wand pointed towards his chest while Remus’ own wand was several feet out of reach. He wouldn’t have a chance of grabbing it before the other man attacked him.

“I’m looking for a book James owned.”

“Ah, stealing from them already, are you? I couldn’t care less what you take from that useless Potter, but I won’t let you insult Lily’s death by looting.”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m doing!” Remus insisted quickly, his hands raising as the other man stepped further into the room, “Look Snape, this has nothing to do with you. I need to find someone – someone that needs to pay for what happened to Lily and James.”

“Oh?” Snape’s sneer was back, “But Black is already in prison for his crimes and, if I tell the ministry that I caught you trespassing here, you will be too.”

“Wait, don’t be rash Severus. Sirius didn’t do this – he _wasn’t_ the spy. Peter was! He went behind our back and -…”  
“You stupid mutt, I know that already.”

“- he’s still alive and-… Wait, _what_ did you just say?”

A dark eyebrow rose behind long black hair as Snape regarded the werewolf in what Remus thought had to have been a mocking manner.

“I said I already knew your scared little friend was on the other side. I worked closely with the Dark Lord before I came to Dumbledore’s side and I saw him sneaking around several times. I just never thought Black would be dumb enough to make him their secret keeper. If I had…” Snape allowed his voice to trail off and Remus nodded slightly, understanding all too well what the other meant. If he had known that Peter was going to be the secret keeper he would have warned Dumbledore of his betrayal. However, the fact still remained that Snape had seen Peter working with the enemy and had never offered the information earlier.

“Why didn’t you tell us about Peter in the first place?” Remus asked, anger growing at the realization that Snape could have very well saved them had he been forthcoming with this earlier, “Why did you continue to allow us to act like he was a _friend_?”

“I figured you all had it under control. Surely the _great_ Potter and Black could sniff out a _rat_ if they wanted to.” The shorter man leered, and, for a moment, Snape’s choice of wording made Remus wonder just how much about them he really did know, “But, I suppose they were never as grand as their _egos_ made them believe. I only regret that Lily got pulled down with them…”

The werewolf shook his head at that information and struggled to bite down the ire that seared through him at the knowledge that Snape had allowed his schoolboy grudges to keep him from warning the Order of the spy in their midst. It was because of him that everything happened…

Remus hesitated at that last thought and automatically felt his anger deflate. No, that wasn’t true, it wasn’t entirely Snape’s fault. It had been all of their faults and it was their individual sins combined that led to the events that had transpired. If the Marauders had noticed earlier that Peter was acting shifter than usual, then they may have avoided all of this. If Remus had been forthcoming to his friends about his missions, despite his promise to Dumbledore that he wouldn’t, his friends would not have believed him to be the spy. If Sirius had confronted him earlier about his disappearances he would have learned that it had to be Peter, not Remus, that was the spy, if… There were far too many what-ifs, but, in the end, it didn’t matter. It had been all of their failures that killed Lily and James, and dwelling on that wouldn’t help matters.

“Look Severus, I’m only here to prove that Sirius is innocent. There are some books here that could help me find Peter – because I _know_ Sirius didn’t kill him. Just let me find them and I promise you won’t have to worry about me again.”

Remus wanted to ask just why it was that Severus was here in the first place, as, in reality, Remus had much more of a right to be here than he did, but the wand still gripped in Snape’s hand silenced him.

“Black might be innocent of this crime, but I believe a nice stint in Azkaban is deserved.”

Remus sighed, “If this is about that prank in fifth year then-…”

“Don’t you dare mention that! _Flipendo_!”

The attack hit the werewolf before the words fully met his ears and, from that close of a distance, he found the spell strong enough to throw him back harshly into the bookcase. The lower shelves jumped at the contact and Remus felt himself fall onto his bottom, books raining painfully down on his head and body as the furniture shook.

His mind reeled from the contact as he blearily watched Snape step closer to him. Anger was clear on Severus’ face and he only stopped his advances when his wand’s tip was pressing painfully into his chest.

“Give me a reason to kill you, Lupin.” He growled, eyes staring down at the werewolf in sheer contempt as he prodded the man harder with his wand, “The ministry won’t bat an eye if I tell them that I killed you for trespassing. They’ll believe me if I say that you attacked me, because they’ll _never_ believe a dark creature over a wizard.”

Severus was right, and that fact sent a shiver down Remus’ spine. He needed to choose his words carefully if he ever wanted to save Sirius and Harry, and, despite the fact that his mind was still foggy from pain, Remus raised his hands in surrender.

“Please Severus,” He rasped, his voice lowering in an attempt to placate the older man, “I never knew what Black was planning, and, if I had, I never would have let him trick you like that. We weren’t friends for months following that night, but he has _changed_. I know you’re skilled at Occulumency, if you don’t believe me look for yourself. Sirius learned from that day and, though I know it was terrible what he did, he doesn’t deserve to rot in prison for the rest of his life because of what he did when he was a _child_. And Harry – I can’t take custody of him because of my… condition, but Sirius can once he’s out. Otherwise Petunia is going to have to raise him and -…”  
“ _Stop!_ ” Severus’ attention, while appearing uninterested during most of his blubbering, was now fixated on him, “Repeat that last part. _What_ became of Lily’s son?”

Remus bit back the retort ‘he was _James’_ son too’ that wanted to come out and instead focused on the one topic that he knew he might be able to calm Snape down with.

“Didn’t Dumbledore tell you?” At the sharp look his question received, the werewolf quickly shifted gears, “I mean, Harry was given to Lily’s sister Petunia to raise. You know how much she _hates_ magic, Severus, you know what she’ll do to Harry if she’s allowed to raise him – _Lily’s_ son. She never wanted Petunia to have any part in Harry’s life, and the only person that can stand a fighting chance to get custody of him is Sirius.”

“That Black menace raising _her_ son… Regardless, what is Dumbledore _thinking_ …”

The wand that had been pressing against Remus’ chest hard enough to bruise him faltered in intensity for a moment as Severus appeared to think over Remus’ words. It was clear that Severus didn’t trust the werewolf for a moment, and he really couldn’t blame him for that. He and his friends certainly hadn’t been very kind to him while at school but, then again, it wasn’t as though Snape had been any kinder.

Even so, they were adults now, at the cusp of turning 22 – or was Snape already 22? – and should no longer allow childhood grudges to dictate their actions. Not now that they had real world consequences.

A longing glance was cast to his wand and he barely resisted the urge to shift his uncomfortable position. He still sat as he had fallen, with his upper body leaning heavily on the sturdy shelf and his legs bent awkwardly before him. There were edges of books poking painfully against sections of his back and head, not to mention he still felt remarkably sore from the unneeded attack, but he remained motionless nonetheless. The last thing he needed was to give the other a reason to use another spell against him.

“I don’t like you. Or that bastard Black.”

Severus’ sudden comment caused Remus to jolt out of his thoughts, his head banging painfully against a particularly hard book in his hurry to turn back to face Snape. He leveled a quizzical look at the sudden statements, not that they surprised him, but opted against speaking. Snape must have some point, surely…

“But…” Ah, _there_ it was, “I know how much Lily would have despised the idea of allowing Petunia to raise her son.”

Snape’s voice seemed to take on a softer tone when he spoke about Lily and Remus began to wonder if he really did _love_ her.

Another, calculating look was directed at the sprawled man before Severus took a step back and lowered his wand, though Remus noted that he doesn’t put it away.

“What were you looking for?”  
The werewolf took that as his cue to finally speak again and, watching Severus carefully as he adjusted his position, but still did not rise, Remus pondered how to answer that without incriminating his friends further.

“In school James had a certain fascination with the process of becoming an Animagus after learning about it in class. He had acquired a few books from his family’s collection pertaining to the magic and I was hoping to find them…”

“For what purpose?”

Remus eyed the other man dubiously, wary of revealing too much to him, yet knowing if he revealed too little he would certainly just rile him back up.

“To… To help me find Peter… I have reason to believe that he managed to escape that night as… Erm… I believe he utilized a certain _disguising_ ability he learned to slip away from Sirius…”

“Certain disguising ability, is it? That couldn’t possibly have been his animagus rat form, now could it?”

Remus automatically stiffened at Severus’ leer, his eyes widening before he could help it and his fingers dug uncomfortably into his knees. Severus having that information wasn’t good – were _all_ his friend’s covers blown? Would Severus tell everyone about what they had done or-

“For Merlin’s _sake_ Lupin I don’t have time for this lunacy. Yes, I know your dear little friend could turn into a rat. Do you really think the Dark Lord would have not had him use that magic for his own means? I couldn’t care less about what you and your pathetic friends got up to. I do, however, care about just how it is you plan on conducting this little plan of yours.”

Remus studied the other man for another minute before finally conceding that he had no choice but to comply. Either he explained himself entirely to the man or he lied and risked getting himself sent off to Azkaban.

So, weighing his options and figuring he had very little left to lose, Remus admitted his plan to the other man. He spoke of how he hoped that his animagus form could assist him in discovering Peter’s whereabouts, since he could not find a spell that would assist him with the task. He carefully avoided the topic of his other friend’s animagus capabilities and, thankfully, Snape did not pry further into the matter. Instead he appeared to cast Lupin a thoughtful expression before he turned to regard the bookcase.

“Not your best plan, Lupin. Here I thought you had the brains of your ridiculous group, though even then that really isn’t saying much.”

“Do you have a point, Severus?”

“Of course. Unlike you I actually think through my plans.”

If there was a point, Remus decided he would, once again, remain silent until the other man made it clear.

“My _point_ ,” Snape said, seemingly understanding that Remus’ silence was for him to continue, “Is that, regardless of how well you may be able to smell as a mutt, what makes you think that you’d suddenly be able to track that nuisance down? There are far too many scents for you to have a clear trail.”

The werewolf knew that, obviously, but he also knew better than to voice that aloud. Naturally he would have to find another way to determine Peter’s general location before he could follow his scent, if the animagus transformation even worked.

“But, I believe I might know of a potion that can narrow down his whereabouts.”

Remus perked up at that, his expression shifting from surprised, to excited, to suspicious in seconds. Snape must have some alternative motive to this.

“What’s the catch?” When Severus merely raised an eyebrow in response, Remus clarified, “I mean, why are you doing this? Why are you _helping_ me?”

The other man’s expression immediately darkened at the questions, but he did not offer a response. Instead he continued searching the shelves, his beady eyes raking across the spines of the books as though they had all personally offended him in some way.

It was only when Remus had begun to believe he wasn’t going to respond at all that Snape seemed to find what he was looking for and, with only one last, careless glance at the cover, he chucked it towards him. The tawny haired man only barely managed to raise his hands to catch the book after it had hit him squarely in the chest and properly knocked the breath out of him.

He managed to shoot the now smirking man a glare before he looked down at the offending book with a small grimace, his free hand moving to rub irritably at his chest as he scanned the cover of the novel… _This is it!_

“I recognized Lily’s organization style. It didn’t make sense to me the first time she explained it and it still doesn’t, but I remembered it anyway…” Snape’s words trailed off at that revelation and a shocked look crossed his face, almost as though he was surprised with himself for admitting all that to the werewolf. Then, as though to make up for his moment of weakness, he cast an annoyed glance at Remus, “And I will make something clear. I am not doing this for you, and I’m especially not doing this for Black. I’m doing this for Lily.”  
Unsure whether his voice would anger the other again or not, Remus found it safest to merely nod at that, his arms curling protectively around the familiar book. He remembered the first time James had shown it to the Marauders all those years ago, his grin wide and eyes determined, and, for a minute, the werewolf suddenly understood what had caused Severus’ brief departure down memory lane.

They were both haunted by ghosts of their past by standing in this room and, while they were still nothing even close to friends, they had a common overarching goal in mind – to save the boy that both of their loved ones had died for.

“I understand.” He finally offered softly.

“There’s a potion that I can begin to make that will lead you to where Peter is. I will, however, need a hair of his for it to work, and the potion’s effects will only bring you to his tentative location at the moment that you drink it. I will warn you that this potion is outdated and there is no guarantee that it will work. It also takes at least three months to brew correctly, though I will require the hair a month into the process.”

Remus nodded again, staring curiously at Snape’s back as he continued to stare intently at the bookcases. Remus imagined it was no easier for Snape to step foot in that house than it is for him, and, not for the first time, he felt pity for the man before him.

“I am still in acquaintance with Peter’s mother. I am certain I can procure a hair from the room he used to stay in at her place.”

This time it was Severus’ turn to nod and, casting one final glance towards the books, Snape turned to fully regard Remus for the first time since he had initially come into the room. His eyes were still narrowed in a disdainful glare, but Remus figured that the fact that he was even looking at him was progress.

“I expect you’ll be able to complete the process of becoming an animagus in that timeframe?”

“I believe so. I assisted Peter with his transformation, so I remember the majority of the steps.” It had taken his friends three years to complete their transformations, but most of that time had been spent attempting to learn the exact process of the transformation. When it came to actually enacting the steps it hadn’t taken more than a few months.

“Good. You are aware that you could potentially be stuck as a wolf forever if your condition reacts poorly to the spell, correct?”

“Yes…” Remus had known that was a risk from the get go, but he wasn’t going to let fear stop him this time, “I’ve considered that as a possible outcome… I’ve weighed my options, believe me, Severus, but, at this point I suppose that I simply don’t stand as much to lose as I do to gain with this plan.”

Snape made a noncommittal noise and his glare did not lessen, though Lupin could tell Snape understood all too well what he meant.

“Though I do want to make something clear, Severus. As you said, there is a possibility that I could be stuck in my wolf form forever, however the issue is not so much that I will be trapped in the wolf as it will be that my wolf side will.” Remus paused, making certain Severus was following before he continued, “So I will need you to promise me one thing. If I succeed in transforming, but am not in control of myself and do not appear as though I will regain the ability soon enough to avoid hurting anyone, I need you to swear that you’ll kill me. I run this risk solely with the knowledge that it may hurt me, but I will not allow it to hurt someone else as well. Will you promise me that, Severus?”  
Snape’s smirk was wicked enough to send a chill down his spine,

“I would enjoy _nothing_ more, Lupin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After looking around online, I couldn't actually find anywhere that said how long the Animagus transformation takes. I know a month is dedicated solely to keeping a mandrake leaf in your mouth, but no other specifics were noted, so I'm just running with my own ideas. Since Remus watched his friends complete the whole process, so I figure that would help him complete the task faster. There is also very little information about werewolves available, and none of it relates to how that condition will affect animagus magic, so I'm taking creative liberties.


	3. Farewell, old friends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus attends the funeral he never thought he'd have to plan, Sirius finds Akzaban every bit as terrible as he had been told it was, and Severus proves to be more useful than Remus could have imagined.

Sirius was used to being lonely.

Growing up as the white sheep in a black family, Sirius had gotten accustomed to spending long hours locked in his room by himself. He was usually sent there in punishment for misbehaving in even the smallest ways, that is, until it had gotten to the point where he was sometimes sent up there for no real reason at all. A young Sirius had chalked the punishments up to his parents simply not wanting him to be in their presence, which was fine with him. It wasn’t as though he enjoyed hanging around them, pretending to be what he wasn’t.

At least in those days he had Regulus, who would sneak into his room at night to give the increasingly antsy boy company. He had lived for those days, when, in the cover of the dark, he could talk freely to his brother about his plans to one day leave the Black house and everything they stood for. Sirius had been only a young boy when he first understood the evil ways of his family and had fought against them. He’d known that the dark magic his parents practiced was not the kind of magic he wanted to be known for when he grew up, but his brother always called him stupid for that.

His younger brother never understood why Sirius made life difficult for himself when all he had to do was what their parents wanted, and, in the end, Sirius mused that that was what inevitably tore them apart. Where Sirius blazed with life like a wildfire, Regulus burned with the intensity of an ebbing candle, small, careful, and far too easily snubbed out with only the slightest of troubles.

Then, when he was eleven he went to Hogwarts and, just like that, he learned that he never had to be lonely again. He was constantly surrounded by three other boys that quickly grew to mean the world to him, and he almost forgot what it felt like to be lonely.

But now, as he huddled into a corner in his cell in Azkaban, lonely was the only emotion he could clearly identify.

It was a terrible, stomach curdling sort of sensation that sent shivers down his quickly thinning form. Some days the loneliness got so bad that he almost forgot how to breath, his breaths labored and terrified as he brought his legs in closer to his chest, as though the contact of his body on his own could trick his mind into thinking there was someone there with him.

It had to have been weeks since he was thrown into that cell, though there was no way for him to be certain. At first he had used the rise and fall of the moon as his calendar, until the day that he found the full moon to be too painful to look at. He used to adore these days, the nights that he and his friends were free to run through the woods and let loose, and the reminder was too much for his slowly fading sanity to handle.

Not to mention he was once more reminded of Moony, the man that he had betrayed by losing faith in him, and Lily and James, whom he didn’t kill, but might as well have.

He was innocent, though, and it was that thought alone that had comforted him when the dementors got too close for his own liking.

_Moony, I’m so sorry. Everyone else is gone, but please don’t leave me too._

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While the war itself had killed many, the surge of epidemics that had preluded it were nearly as merciless, making it so, by the time James and Lily had been killed, neither had parents to grieve their deaths. James’ parents had already died several months apart at the hands of Dragon pox, and Lily’s parents, well, Remus wasn’t certain what it was that had claimed their lives. Some muggle disease, Lily had said between tears, and Remus hadn’t the heart to press further into the matter.

James’ family had been small, neither of his parents having siblings nor were their parents still alive, and Lily’s situation was the same. She had only a sister that hated her to mourn her passing, leaving it so Remus was the closest they had to family when it came to their funerals.

McGonagall, with a heavy heart and pitying eyes, had assisted Remus in organizing the small event. They weren’t expecting many attendees, as the Order of the Phoenix members were the closest the Potters had to family aside from their close friends, and even that number had diminished to a crushing few following the war.

Funerals were far too common in the past few months, Remus concluded with a heavy sigh as he stood in front of the door of James and Lily’s funeral, stuck shaking the hands of those Order members that not only survived, but also felt the need to attend yet another memorial. Lupin himself had just attended his own mother’s funeral only a month prior and he found himself experiencing the same, numbing emotions he had then. He had loved his friends as much as he had his family, so he ended up feeling as though he was burying his mother for a second time.

His father stood beside him, a reassuring presence for the 21 year-old, and, inside the doors, he knew Dumbledore and McGonagall were also speaking to the attendees while getting ready for the memorial service. It was there, beside their forms, that Lily and James lay in their coffins, eyes closed and peaceful in death.

It was only when Peter’s mother, sniffling with tearstained cheeks, walked up to greet him that he was forced to remember that the funeral was also for Peter, although he had no body to showcase. The reminder caused a surge of anger to rush through the werewolf and it was only with great self-restraint that Remus managed to hug Mrs. Pettigrew and offer her his sincere condolences.

At first he had thought it would be difficult to see Mrs. Pettigrew again, though he knew this would not be their last visit, as he still needed to visit her to sneakily acquire a hair of Peter’s, but he found his apologies to be sincere instead of outright lies. When he expressed his distress at the events that had led to the deaths of the three friends, Remus realized that he really, truly did share the grievances for Peter as well. The man may not have actually perished that night, but the man that Remus thought Peter was had, as did their friendship. As far as Remus was concerned the rat animagus might as well have been dead – for the helpful, fun-loving and sweet Peter he knew at Hogwarts was no longer who that dreadful, selfish man was. Instead he was a victim of war, too terrified of the future and of death to embrace the bravery Remus knew he possessed deep down.

So, when Remus smiled once more and allowed the older woman to make her way to the seat in the front of the room, the werewolf realized that she truly had lost her son. Perhaps not in the literal sense, but in the same metaphorical way that Remus had. Mrs. Pettigrew was always an exceptionally kind woman, constantly more than willing to allow the boys to visit during school breaks, and the werewolf had grown fond of her over the years. Remus would never have the heart to admit to her that the son she had raised and adored so much was not the hero she believed him to be, but instead was the cowardly individual that nearly resulted in not only the death of two of his friends, but also their young baby.

His father’s hand on his shoulder told Remus it was time for the memorial to begin and, with a heavy sigh, he carefully closed the doors before following his father to take their seats at the very front of the room.

The seats left for Harry and Petunia’s family were still vacant when the service began and Remus tried to ignore the rage their absence brought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When Remus had first realized that he would have to put together the funeral, he thought that it would be a good thing. It would offer him some closure, Dumbledore had assured him, and it would allow him to express his grievances in a healthy way. He’d be able to say good bye to two of his best friends and move on, his father had said. But now, as Remus sat and listened to Dumbledore address the small crowd, he thought that everyone was doing entirely too much talking.

Everyone _talked_ about what had happened, they _talked_ about their deaths, Sirius’ imprisonment, and Harry’s fate, but no one _did_ anything, and it was starting to get on Remus’ nerves. He was the only one who knew the truth about the situation, was the only one willing to actually _do_ something about the tragedies aside from offering sympathies or condolences.

But Remus sat there like a good boy, posture deflated and face solemn as people began to share stories about James and Lily like they actually knew them.

James was always bright and happy, Kingsley had said with a sad glance towards Remus, and he praised the man’s bravery. He’d always been the first one to volunteer for a particularly tough mission, the man had noted, and Remus couldn’t help but feel angry at him. He spoke of James so two-dimensionally, as though he was merely another fighter in the war and not the man that would bravely stand up for Remus when older students picked on him for his ragged clothes their first year. As though he wasn’t the man that would have died to protect his friends and family.

The soft sound of the door opening dragged Remus’ attention from the front of the room to the back and he found himself blinking in disbelief at the dark form he caught slipping inside. There, almost hiding in the shadows of the corner of the room, stood Severus Snape. His skin was as pale as ever and his face looked pinched. Their gazes met for a mere moment before the former death eater stepped further back against the wall, his attention pointedly switching to the front of the room. With one last inquisitive glance, Remus did the same.

The next person who spoke, Hestia Jones, complimented Lily’s open and encouraging personality as though she had actually spoken to her more than a handful of times. She recounted a silly story about how Lily had always been there to offer a smile in grave times, but she never mentioned how Lily had been there for Remus in fifth year when no else had been. How Lily had offered him unwavering support after the prank despite the fact that she didn’t understand exactly what had happened until she found out about his condition in 6th year. Jones never mentioned how understanding and loving she was, no matter how you treated her.

When Mrs. Pettigrew rose to commemorate Peter Remus felt nauseous and tried to stop listening. It made it so much _harder_ to hate his old friend when he was reminded of how close they were, how close they _all_ were, and Remus didn’t think he could bear any more grief in his life. It was so much easier to forget about all of Peter’s positives and focus on his negatives, and he found himself unable to meet Mrs. Pettigrew’s eyes as she spoke. His turn would be next, he knew, because he was one of the few attendees that could speak of all three of them, but Remus really didn’t want to. Speaking about James and Lily in the past tense was too much, and talking about Peter at all made him furious. But he would do it because he, at least, owed that much to the two people who made his life worth living.

It was a way into Peter’s mom’s speech before Remus broke out of his melancholy thoughts with a jolt as a far too familiar smell hit Remus’ senses. He whirled his head around the room, eyes narrowed as he searched for the cause of the scent.

The door at the back of the room was slightly ajar and Remus noticed that Severus had left, the door no doubt having been left open upon his exit. He felt a moment of disappointment at the discovery – he had been hoping to speak to the other man after – but the emotion lasted for barely a moment before he noticed a small form scamper through the wooden doors and just like that the smell was back.

_That looked like a rat._

Within seconds Remus was out of his chair and rushing out of the room in pursuit, his head ducked down. As he moved he thought he heard a murmur of pity erupt through the small crowd, as they no doubt thought the touching words were becoming too much for him to bear, but Remus didn’t care. He had much more pressing matters.

The scent was faint, but undeniably there, and Remus was practically sprinting down the side halls of the funeral building, his blood pulsing and mind racing.

_I know that scent, I’d know it anywhere._

One more turn and a door was wrenched open to reveal a dingy alley. The smell of candy and rat gave way to trash and decay as Remus searched the small area desperately, the hand still clutching the doorknob tightening.

He’d lost the scent and, by now, the form could have gone anywhere, though one thing was certain.

 _Peter was there_.

_But why?_

              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You were there.”

“An astute observation, Lupin. I can’t imagine how anything gets by you.”

Remus rolled his eyes at the others words, his arms crossing as he leaned his hip against the side of the table Snape was working at,

“I meant that I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I don’t see how my personal affairs are any of your business, Lupin.”

The werewolf forgot how positively exasperating the other man could be.

“Thank you, Snape. Thank you for coming, I mean.”

Snape scoffed,

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know.”

Silence transpired between them after that and Remus, knowing better than to try to force a conversation from Snape again, took to merely watching the man in action.

His long nose was bent over the cauldron and his beady eyes, half covered by his long black hair, were intensely focused on his work.

“Did you bring the hair?” Severus asked, appearing to ignore Remus’ gaze as he instead continued diligently stirring the strange mixture. It was a purple concoction that smelled like rotten eggs and vinegar. Didn’t Snape say he had to _drink_ that?

“Uh, yes, I did.” He managed to confirm, his lips quirking into a grimace at that last thought, “I took it from the brush Peter used to use, so I know it’s his.”

Snape nodded at that and said nothing more, leaving Remus to wallow in his thoughts once more.

He had visited Peter’s mother after the funeral a few weeks before and, while the encounter hadn’t exactly been a pleasant one for the werewolf – as he felt terrible lying to the sweet woman – it had resulted in him achieving his goal; taking Peter’s hairbrush.

The brush had been abandoned in Peter’s room, which Remus had entered under the false pretenses of taking back an old book his friend had borrowed. Thankfully Peter had indeed been in possession of some of his old books, though Remus didn’t particularly need them back, so his mother had easily allowed him to disappear briefly into Peter’s room.

Wormtail had lived there until his ‘death’ and, when Remus entered, he had to ignore the memories of the four of them cramped into that room during summer vacations, laughing and joking. It still looked messy and lived in and the werewolf could tell Peter’s mother had been in there, as the usually undone bed was made up nicely.

Remus couldn’t imagine how it felt to lose a child.

“Alright, I’ll need the hair now.”

Remus nodded and reached into his pocket for the brush, his sore body involuntarily flinching at the dull pain that the movement brought. The full moon had been just two days before and the damage was nearing extremes. Moony had been out for blood more so than usual and Remus was silently surprised that he was even still alive. It appeared as though the wolf was attempting to eat himself whole.

“Sore, mutt?”

Remus ignored the comment and instead pressed the brush onto the table with a little more force than necessary.

“I suppose you aren’t completely inept, Lupin.”

“Was that almost a compliment, Snape?” Remus’ lips quirked up into a small smirk at Snape’s responding scoff.

“In your dreams, Lupin.”

Remus couldn’t help but think of how Sirius would respond to that, his expression sneering as he assured Snape that he was nowhere even relatively _close_ to being in his dreams, unless it was a nightmare, and the taller of the two felt his smile fall.

“How is the potion going?” Remus asked in an attempt to distract himself from his own thoughts, his eyes following Snape’s hand as it grabbed a lock of hair, “Still two more months to go, right?”

Snape grunted in confirmation as he studied the piece of blonde hair before he dropped it carefully into the brew. The ugly purple liquid bubbled and whistled with the addition but otherwise did not change.

“Yes, two more months. I assume you’ve been making progress with your transformation?”  
Again Remus nodded. It had taken him a few days to completely recall the process that his friends had gone through, as he hadn’t even been aware of what they were doing during the first step, but he had figured everything out pretty quickly. The first month was mainly preparation for the other months, though he did have to brew some form of potion to begin. Thankfully the recipe was simple enough for even Remus to complete, as he was entirely rubbish at that field of magic, and he was just about to get ready to move onto the next stage – keeping a mandrake leaf in his mouth for a month.

“I’m just about to start on step two. I should be able to finish the process by the time the potion is ready.”

“Good.” Snape grumbled, giving the potion two more good stirs before appearing pleased by it, “I suppose that would be where you must keep a mandrake leaf in your mouth?”

Remus stiffened at the question, his surprise showing in the immediate raising of his eyebrows.

“How do you know that?”  
“Potter wasn’t the only one capable of getting ahold of that book.” For the first time since Remus entered the Hogwarts potion classroom, Severus looked fully up at him, “The copy is rare, but not impossible to find.”

“But why would you want it?”  
“I figured it would make an excellent paperweight.” Snape said dryly.

Remus gave him an expectant look in response but the other man merely stared back at him with an impassive expression.

“Right.” The werewolf sighed in defeat, a hand rising to run through his curls, “Of course. Allow me to clarify – What do you _need_ a book on animagi magic for? Are you also planning on becoming one?”

Snape eyed Remus for a moment, appearing to think over something before offering a short nod. When the werewolf went to speak again the dark-haired male held up a finger in a request for silence before he disappeared into the potions cabinet. The sound of rummaging could be heard and Remus’ brows furrowed in confusion, though he obediently remained silent.

When Snape emerged again he had a small jar full of green leaves in his hands.

“Here, mandrake leaves. I do believe we have to keep these in our mouths for a month. They’re terrible tasting things.”

If the taller of the two was perplexed before he was absolutely _bewildered_ now. Not only did Snape seem to also be attempting to become an animagi, but he was also willing to _help_ Remus even more with his plan? This all seemed far too bizarre; after all, it was just four years ago that Sirius and James had goaded ‘Snivellus’ on about how ‘it was really about time that he learned what soap was’. Remus had done nothing to stop the taunting then and he never felt worse about that now.

“Thank you…”  
Slowly, as though still unsure whether the leaf was a trap, Remus plucked one of the contents of the jar up and placed it in his mouth, grimacing as it hit his tongue.

Beside him Snape did the same, although his show of disgust was considerably more masked than Remus’. The only sign of his discontent was shown through the slight crinkle of his eyes and the momentary jerk of one side of his lip down. Snape truly was a master at concealing how he felt.

“… Why are you doing this?”

Remus knew logically that it was unwise to ‘poke the bear’, as the muggles called it, but his curiosity was peaked and Snape didn’t appear to be _all_ that irritable at the moment. Maybe he’d show a rare moment of kindness and talk to Remus like he was actually worth his time.

“My reasons are my own, Lupin. As are yours.”

Remus felt his hope wither away at the cold response, though he couldn’t say he was all that surprised by it.

“Perhaps, but you are aware of my reasons. Is it not fair that I am aware of yours as well?”

Snape sneered at him, but did not appear outwardly angered by Remus’ persistence. Instead he resumed stirring his potion, acting as though the werewolf didn’t exist.

“I would think that you of all people would understand that _fair_ is a word used exclusively for children. There is nothing fair about anything in life.” Snape said coolly, his tone neither perceptively happy nor angry, “But I will remind you of one thing, Lupin. You are not the only one that lost something important in this war, just like you are not the only one who was faced with betrayals. We are not friends, I will make that clear, but I think you may prove to be useful in the future, so I’ll entertain your presence as well as your questions. For now.”

  
_Well_ , Remus thought, _that certainly wasn’t foreboding or anything_ …

“I assure you that I was never disillusioned enough to believe anything to the contrary, Severus.”

Snape frowned at the use of his first name – he always did hate the intimacy that first names came with – and Remus inwardly smiled. It was a small, silly victory, but it was still a victory nonetheless.

“Good.”

They lapsed into silence once again and Remus started to shift awkwardly from one foot to another. He had delivered the hair as Severus had asked, and now he wasn’t certain what to do. It dawned on him that the lack of conversation was no doubt his clue to leave, and, with one last curious glance at Snape’s turned back, the werewolf prepared to leave.

“One last thing, Lupin.”

Snape’s voice stopped him and a glance over his shoulder told him that, despite the fact that Snape was speaking, he never turned to look at him.

“I expect to see you again in three week’s time.”

Remus frowned, his brows furrowing,

“Is there something else that is needed for the potion.”

“No. I assume you don’t read the _Daily Prophet_?”

Remus shook his head and then, realizing that Snape wasn’t watching him, said,

“No. I, uh, I haven’t read it since…”

“A simple no would suffice.”

The werewolf huffed at the curt tone, but was silently grateful that his rambling had been cut off.

“I left a recent copy of the _Prophet_ on my desk. Read the inside cover.”

Snape’s tone left no room for argument and, with a hint of indignation at being ordered around, Remus did as he was told.

The aforementioned paper was left carefully on the edge of Snape’s desk and, pausing only a moment to admire how organized it was, Remus picked the paper up and opened it to the aforementioned page.

There, in large block letters, were the words,

_‘Partial cure to lycanthropy? What is Wolfsbane?’_

Involuntarily Remus sucked in a breath, his posture stiffening in sheer disbelief.

_No, there’s no way… This must be a joke…_

He immediately went to read the rest of the article, his attention rapt and blood buzzing in his ears.

What Belby has invented wasn’t a cure, and, despite himself, Remus felt a surge of disappointment pool in his stomach, but the idea of being able to at least maintain his mind during transformations was astonishing. It would make his transformations so much less painful if he could keep the wolf from tearing at his own limbs, and he felt himself swell with hope. Maybe, if he could get ahold of this potion, things would be better… He’d be able to keep a job and…

His stomach sank as he read the difficulty level of the potion – advanced, he’d never be able to make it himself. He’d barely managed an A on his potions O.W.L.S, after all, and the price of the ingredients… He’d never be able to afford it either…

With a sigh that made him feel a decade older than he was, Remus dropped the paper messily onto the otherwise immaculate desk, not caring that it had been neatly folded when he had picked it up. This was no doubt Snape’s attempt at mocking him about his lycanthropy. He would rub it in Remus’ face that he was too poor and inept to ever dream of making a potion like that and the sad thing was that he would be correct.

“Wolfsbane…” Remus said warily, a hand rising to rub tiredly at his face as he moved towards the door again, “I was unaware that was invented. Quite the development, it seems. Innovative.”  
Not to mention unobtainable as hell. How on earth was the potion going to help any werewolves? Most were far too poverty ridden to afford the ingredients, though that was assuming that they could even make it in the first place.

“Indeed.” Snape agreed and, to Remus’ surprise, his tone seemed devoid of mockery, “So I expect to see you again a week before the full moon to collect the potion.”

Remus froze so fast he almost felt as though he’d been hit by a stunning spell.

“Wait…” He breathed, whirling around to stare once more at the potions master, “Are you saying that you’re going to _make_ _me_ Wolfsbane?”

“Do try to keep up, Lupin.”

“But… Why? You _hate_ me.”

A unimpressed look was leveled over his shoulder before Severus scoffed,

“That I will not argue, however, seeing as I am going to so much effort brewing this potion for you the last thing I desire is for you to kill yourself before you have the chance to destroy Pettigrew. Lily…” He paused as he mentioned the name and Remus thought he saw the other man wince, “I’m only helping you for _her_. To get the revenge that she deserved and because… Well, for a reason I will never be able to grasp, she was rather _fond_ of you. She would… She would want me to…”

Snape trailed off at that and the werewolf merely nodded in response. It seemed as though, in Lily’s death, Severus was attempting to redeem himself in her eyes. It was a noble motivation and Remus found his respect for the other man grow.

Perhaps this side of Snape was what had inspired Lily and Severus’ friendship to begin with.

“I see. Thank you, Severus.”

A curt nod was his only response and Remus took that as his cue to leave.

It was strange, this acquaintanceship Remus had developed with Snape, and he could only imagine what his friends would say. James and Sirius would no doubt declare it as being betrayal, whereas he imagined Lily would be happy. He always knew how lonely Remus and Severus were, so she would no doubt claim that they could be lonely friends together, whatever that would mean.

The werewolf smiled to himself at the thought as he moved up the stairs. He would make his way to the great hall before flooing back home from there, he thought, and, so lost in those ponderings, Remus nearly found himself colliding with Dumbledore minutes later.

He had absently made it to the hallway leading to the front doors of Hogwarts and just barely managed to still his feet as he stopped within inches of Dumbledore’s smiling face. It seemed to Remus as though the headmaster had noticed him a good deal of time before he did, and had waited for the werewolf to finally realize he was there.

 _Whoops_ , Remus thought, feeling remarkably like he did when he was in trouble while he was a student at Hogwarts.

“Good evening, Remus.” Dumbledore smiled, not at all surprised to see Remus there and, not for the first time, the werewolf wondered just how _much_ the other man knew, “I was just thinking to myself how lonely these halls are during the winter holidays and was imaging how lovely it would be to see a familiar face.”

Remus couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Good evening, Albus.”

The smile was returned warmly and Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back before tilting his head slightly,

“Tell me, what is it that brings you here, my boy? While I would love to believe it was to join me on a stroll through the castle to admire the Christmas decorations, your expression seems far too determined.”  
Ever observant and all knowing, Remus knew better than to try and lie to the man.

“There was a matter I had to discuss with Severus. I was just now about to return to my apartment.”

There was much more to the story than that and the werewolf could tell the Headmaster knew more than he was letting on, but, just in case, Remus opted against saying anything too revealing. After all, Dumbledore still didn’t know that his friends were illegal animagus’, nor was he aware that both he and Severus were attempting to hunt down Peter.

“I take it you decided against following my advice to allow the matter with Sirius and Peter to be let go?” Remus must have looked guilty, because Dumbledore offered him a reassuring grin, “I figured as much, but I had to at least attempt to voice my opinion on the matter. Sometimes I forget too much how strong the aspirations of the young are. It is easily among my greatest downfalls.”

The younger of the two was unsure of how to reply to that, resulting in his blatant staring at the older man for several seconds before he, appearing to take pity on the speechless man, spoke again.

“There are many DeathEaters that escaped prosecution,” Dumbledore reminded him gently, his blue eyes piercing, “Many would not be pleased to hear of you prying into their past business.”  
Remus remained silent and Albus sighed,

“What I am saying, Remus, is that your actions, while noble, may lead to very dangerous consequences. My sources have already lead me to believe that one Fenrir Greyback feels as though you have betrayed their pack during your time undercover, and I know I need not remind you of what Greyback is capable of when he feels as though he has been slighted. I know it is selfish to ask Remus, but I do so only with your best interests at heart. If you continue to involve yourself in matters that the DeathEaters believed to be their own, Greyback, among others, may have an excuse to come after you.”

Dumbledore’s words sounded oddly like a threat and Remus regarded the man warily.

“I am more grateful to you than I could ever put into words, Albus. You allowed me to attend this wonderful school when no other headmaster would, and you gave me more of a chance than I could ever believe I deserved.” Remus assured, “However, you also taught me to fight for what I think is right, and I am doing just that.”

Dumbledore nodded, as though he had expected this response, and despite everything, Remus felt his fondness for the old man only grow. He would not stop Remus, even if he did not approve of his plans.  
“I merely ask that you think about what you are doing, Remus; think about what you have to lose.”  
Remus smiled, though it lacked any trace of mirth,

“I’ve only things to gain, of that I assure you.”


End file.
